


You Get What You Need

by bookgazing



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Holding Hands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:24:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookgazing/pseuds/bookgazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richelieu makes Treville's birthday wish come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Get What You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SevenCorvus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenCorvus/gifts).



Treville raises his face to the bright spring sky. The wind nips under his collar while pale sunshine plays over his face. He closes his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun soaked bench seep up through his palms and into his tired bones. For once, the rose garden is quiet and he intends to enjoy it.

The polite twitter of birds ripples around him, early bees add a humming harmony, and Treville feels the tense knots in his shoulder unravel just a little. The loud crack of gunshot and the bellow of orders fade from his mind as the garden pulls him under its spell. 

His peace is short lived. A discordant beat breaks up the garden’s simple symphony; the precise tapping of purposeful, booted footsteps and the swish of heavy fabric crash through the air. Birds flap and scatter, and the wind tugs demandingly at his hat. Treville sighs - someone has found his hiding place. 

Treville is known for his lectures on responsibility. The sound of his voice blasting away at ranks of Musketeers rings through the courtyard on a daily basis. ‘Never let your guard down. Stay alert if you want to live!’ Last week, he caught D’Artagnan flirting on duty and, just like his old Captain, grabbed him by his collar and started roaring about safety, duty and dead, careless soldiers. He should already be on his feet, weapon drawn, snarling at whoever stands across from him. But the King is worried about the Queen and the baby, and his favourite watchdog has been so busy riding around investigating conspiracy theories he hasn’t seen a proper mattress in days. Treville struggles briefly with his heavy eyelids before deciding to stay exactly where he is, eyes closed. ‘What do you want?’ he barks out, hoping a bit of bravado will serve. 

‘ _Eye contact_ would be a splendid start, if that’s not too much trouble for you, _Captain_ Treville.’ 

Treville relaxes and covers the laughter that bubbles to his lips with a cough. The Cardinal. Sarcasm should not be such an endearing trait, but Richelieu’s charming brand of insolence works wonders on Treville. He opens his eyes and twists his head towards Richelieu, a small smile quirking his lips, ‘What can I do for you, your holiness?’ 

‘I have some important details of the King’s security to go over with you. As long as that’s _convenient_ , of course,’ Richelieu drawls. His voice booms around the gardens and Treville puzzles over why the man of secrets has suddenly become so damn loud. 

‘Please, sit down.’

Richelieu looks at the bench as if Treville has offered him a seat in Hell’s stickier regions, but Treville can see his eyes dancing light and bright with a plan. His own heartbeat picks up; something is afoot. The Cardinal sits down and makes a show of settling his robes, sweeping the bright red material over the bench and, co-incidentally you understand, over Treville’s right hand. 

Richelieu runs a finger under his collar and straightens his rosary. ‘The King is still concerned about the security of the Queen,’ he says while pointedly examining his nails, avoiding Treville’s eyes. ‘He sent me to discuss a new outline for her security corps in the days leading up to her confinement.’ He reaches inside the left hand pocket of his robe, brushing Treville’s hand through the cloth. 

‘You can study it at your leisure, but you might find the first section _particularly_ interesting.’ Richelieu pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it to reveal inky diagrams. He leans into Treville’s shoulder as he points out the relevant part of the document. They hunch over it together, intently, foreheads nearly touching – Treville hears their breathing huffing in synchronised beats, filling the small space between them. 

Eventually, he takes the paper from Richelieu’s hand, folds it and slips it inside his shirt. He feels The Cardinal watch the movement of his hand from beneath lowered lashes. Once the paper is securely stowed, Treville is careful to casually slide his hand back under the sweep of scarlet cloak. And before too long Richelieu reaches under the folds of cloth and lightly takes Treville’s hand. 

‘Happy birthday,’ he murmurs to the ground as his thumb brushes slow circles on Treville’s skin. 

He’d almost forgotten. They were pressed together in the bedroom of Richelieu’s secret residence, the room spinning a little after a jug or two of celebratory wine, when Treville started wishing on the stars in the ceiling fresco. Silly, easy birthday wishes from a man feeling sentimental about his age. Good fortune for the King. Good health for the Musketeers. And then, leaning his head against his lover’s chest, he let a private wish escape – such a small want that Treville keeps it close so it will never be trampled. He wished for the stars to grant a moment, just one, where they can hold hands in public. Richelieu kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair as he fell asleep, and Treville felt the silence swallow them. What was there to say? 

That was weeks ago and Treville had let it drift from his mind. But Richelieu had made a plan - this patchwork cover of a security conference to fulfil a birthday wish. Treville catches himself falling into a puppyish grin and gives in to it; squeezes Richelieu’s hand and lets the smile take over his face. And they say wishing on stars never got a man anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Title credit to 'You Can't Always Get What You Want' by The Rolling Stones.


End file.
